On the open sea, waves rolled hard under a gray sky. A flock of ravens met a flock of crows in midair. They spotted each other from a distance and slammed together in seconds.
Feathers flew. The birds tore into one another, wings beating wildly. One by one they dropped into the water, soaked and broken, unable to climb back into the wind. Jon's ravens pressed the attack. Euron's crows broke and fled, but most never made it far. Only a handful escaped.
Euron stood on the walls of Pyke, face tight. He hadn't expected Jon to hold back that day on the Silence. The bastard had been playing with him.
Balon waited in the hall with the last of the ironborn lords. Gorold Goodbrother led them, every soldier and longship from Great Wyk now pulled back to Pyke. If the capital fell, the rest would follow.
"Why won't he accept surrender?" Gorold asked, voice raw. "Isn't Stark supposed to be Stannis's loyal dog?"
Donald Drumm slammed a fist on the table. "We've got Prince Euron. The king himself said the man can call down storms. Let the bastard come. We'll rip his fleet apart."
Euron looked over the room, cold and steady. "He only has ships. Wreck those and we take back everything we lost."
The words landed flat. Too many defeats had already burned through their faith in him.
Then someone shouted from the walls.
A massive shadow slid across the water. The chained fleet crept closer, ships linked by heavy iron like a floating fortress. The ironborn lords stared in disbelief. They had never seen ships used that way.
Jon watched from the deck of the linked armada. The fleet moved slow and deliberate. Every ship kept pace so the chains wouldn't snap. He knew the risk. If the storm hit hard, the links could tear hulls apart. Half the fleet might sink. It didn't matter. Asha had already turned. Only Balon remained beside Euron. Once the storm passed, the Iron Islands were finished.
Balon spoke suddenly, voice flat. "Prepare a ship."
The lords turned. No one understood.
"I'm going out with Euron to meet them," Balon said. "If they won't turn back, they can drown in the Drowned God's wrath."
The words weren't his. Euron had already decided. Asha was gone, so Balon would serve as the final sacrifice. He needed a reason to leave the castle without raising alarm.
The Sea Bitch pulled away from the harbor under escort, heading straight for the chained fleet. The ironborn lords watched it go, uneasy. They still weren't sure if Euron's magic would hold.
On the deck of the Sea Bitch, Balon stood quiet. Euron's mute thralls surrounded them. Balon knew what was coming. He had accepted it.
"You have anything left to say?" Euron asked.
Balon looked at the sea. "No. Just do it."
A thrall slipped a noose around his neck and hauled him up the mast. Euron began the chant. Balon's feet left the deck. The rope bit deep. He didn't thrash. He clenched his jaw and took it, refusing to give his brother the satisfaction.
Then Balon's eyes widened. He forced words out through the choking. "Theon… you killed him."
Euron didn't answer. He finished the spell.
The wind exploded. Sails cracked like whips. Waves slammed the hull hard enough to rattle teeth. The storm rose fast and vicious, driving straight toward Jon's fleet.
On the chained armada, officers shouted orders. Sails dropped. Anchors plunged into the water with heavy splashes. Every captain fought to keep formation. The chains groaned under the strain. The deck pitched hard. Men grabbed railings and held on as the sea turned savage.
Jon's ravens fought to stay aloft, then dropped to the masts. The wind screamed. Waves crashed over the linked decks. Some soldiers vomited. Others just locked their grips and waited.
A deep crack split the air. One hull tore partway open under the pressure. Men fell screaming into the churn. The gap didn't spread. The rest of the fleet held.
The storm peaked and broke. Wind eased. Waves settled. The chained armada still floated, battered but intact. Chains rattled as the ships steadied.
Euron's magic had spent itself. Jon gave the order. The fleet slipped its anchors and turned toward Pyke, teeth bared.